Secrets
by Suzume Jun
Summary: Arthur Elizabeth Kirkland, Personification of England, has many secrets. Living for over 8,000 years can do that to you really... How will the word respond to finding out about them? How will Arthur?
1. Marjorie Alice Kirkland

**I do not own Hetalia. There, got that out of the way, now on to the story.**

England stars at the person in the mirror and wonders when everything had gotten so complicated. When had she stopped being able to recognize her reflection? When had she become so afraid someone would find out? Why was she STILL hiding?

But out of all of her questions one hurt the most…

Why had no one figured it out yet?

Sure, she had a few close calls… And the Roman Empire had known, a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of that man. Those four hundred years were not a favorite time in her life… If she had a favorite time in her life at all.

America is forever going on about how she…no, HE never smiles.

She has no reason to. She never did, not anymore.

England's hand goes up to the straw wig she always wears in the presence of other countries and takes it off. Hair the color of liquid flame spilling gracefully down her back to her knees. She takes out her emerald green tinted contact lenses to reveal lifeless eyes the green color of nuclear waste. Eyes that lost their innocence and hope so long ago and have seen so much death and destruction that they have just given up on everything.

Washing the make up off her face reveals two sets of four scar lines that form a series of x's over the right side of her face. Much like someone had dragged something similar, but definitely sharper, to a large fork through her face including her eye and mouth. Bags from lack of sleep also make their presence known underneath her eyes. Their home right above a collection of freckles that cross over the bridge of her nose going from one cheek to the other.

As she unbuckles her belt to take off her shirt she purposefully avoids looking in the bathroom mirror any longer.

Mirrors don't last very long in her house and she had just gotten this one.

Stripping off the rest of her clothing revels gauze wrapped expertly around her chest so tightly it brings the question of how she can even breathe to mind. Her whole body is covered in so many scars even the most battle-numbed soldier would flinch.

And she remembers the story of every single one.

The old, the new, the ones in various stages of infection due to her inability to see the point in cleaning them properly. She can tell you about them all.

Amidst other burns that blemish her skin, on her back you can kind of make out what was once a burned imprint of angel wings, now torn apart and ruined by her other injuries, Between her hipbone next to her belly button is another burnt image, this one of the Roman Empire's flag. The one and only country she will ever belong to.

The only other country that knows one of her secrets and drove her to others.

Evidence of her second most guarded secret is displayed on both of her wrists, the reason why she can never wear short sleeves in the summer. You can also count all twenty-one of her ribs easily.

Slipping into one of Scotland's t-shirts should have made her look adorable…

It makes her look as if she were standing on Death's doorstep. She is… and she waits none to patiently for him to answer his door and let her in. Over eight thousand years have taken their toll on her and NEVER has it shown her even an ounce of kindness,,,

Marjorie Alice Kirkland, Personification of England

Representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, ,

Younger sister of

Alistair James Kirkland, Personification of Scotland

Seamus O'Connor, Personification of the Republic of Ireland

And Cmyru Bryn Kirkland, Personification of Whales

Mother of

Patrick O'Connor Kirkland, Personification of Northern Ireland

And Peter Kirkland, Personification of Sealand

Adoptive mother of one third of the world's countries.

Stands in the middle of her bathroom clad in only a far to large t-shirt and wonders…

_**Why was she even created?**_

**I was thinking of dong a fic were the countries take turns finding out that Arthur was female and how they deal/react to that knowledge. Reviews are always welcome and will determine how soon this is updated along with how it progresses along the way. **

**First obsticle: Who will fin out first? **

**France**

**Scotland**

**Whales**

**Northern Ireland**

**Republic of Ireland**

**Romano**

**Or I can do a chapter on either**

**How the Roman Empire found out. **

**I might do a whole other story on his time in her life. Four hundred years is a long time to work with.**

**Or**

**How England got her actual human name.**

**Bye for now.**

**Might Be Continued….**


	2. The End Of Everything

_Sorry I haven't written in a while... and this is pretty shaky. Combine a busy schedule with writer's block and very little drive to get over the horrid thing. I believe this makes sense but don't hesitate to ask me to explain something._

Chapter 1 -

The edge of an overly familiar blade was what brought Marjorie's sane world to an end. She hadn't been worried when she started. Not about them finding out her gender from the old blade. Sure, she hid the scars. But that was because they were HERS. Marjorie Alyss Kirkland. NOT Arthur Elizabeth Kirkland.

The world may see him as weak but they would never think him to do such a thing.

Even if they wouldn't have cared, actually, most of them would be happy if he did.

Sooner rather than later it escalated. what was once a hot object rubbed abject pressed against her skin once or twice every few months became true suicide attempts. That only her position of being a nation managed to keep her from truly succeeding.

She had been fine before and while under Roman rule. Not yet feeling the need before his appearance into her life and then the abuse she received constantly at his hands placating the voices and making them stronger. Engraving her worth as a female, belittled greatly in the cultural expectations he forced upon her and her people, into her and helping her decide to create Arthur Elizabeth Kirkland.

After she killed him there was no one left in her life able and willing to take his place. About the time of Anglo-Saxon Britain she placed a memory hazing spell on everyone who knew her. It took a lot of magic from her and left her defenceless from the voices in her head as well as the people invading her land but she simply could not bring herself to care. What the voices told her were simply what she had been told her whole life anyway. The truth...

...Everyone would be happier if she had never even been born.

Asia Minor and Greece forgot they had ever met the personification.

Though Asia Minor always wore the mask she had given him to hide from the world around him. Not that she ever actually understood why he would want to do so until she herself had made the decision to wear her own mask. All the current day Turk could remember was that it was a gift from a colonial crush he had failed in someway. Even when he saw her unmasked and in her full glory on the battlefields of World War I he had been unable to place her in his memory.

Greece had kept her sane during their time together as roman provinces. He had only ever called her Albion. Not Little or Middle Britannia as the Roman Empire insisted her to be called. Even after facing his wrath a thousand times for doing so it was still Albion. That name has never crossed his lips since. Even in his memories the girl with flaming hair that lived on his battlegrounds was nameless. There but unimportant for some reason.

Gaul, Spain, and Prussia formed a loathing of her. Unable to realize just who the ghost their soldiers swore to have seen helping their side of the wars throughout generations of humans was.

She had hated that once. The three eldest of the Roman Empire's provinces had been her friends. They had taught her love and kindness and how to care for other people. The 'Bad Touch Trio' as they were later dubbed by the world had been in her life what her true older brothers should have been but weren't. Now though...

… Gaul couldn't stay in the same room as her for so much as five minutes without brinkmanship breaking out between their countries. (And yes,that is a proven fact.) The older brother who had patiently taught her how to read and write in Latin so she could avoid their protector nation's anger. The one who had showed her that MAYBE just maybe... being a girl WAS NOT something to be ashamed of. The one who held her at night when the voices were overwhelming. The ONLY one, fellow country, fae, or human who had tried to convince her she was not only worth something, but EVERYTHING.

…. Spain wished for her a long painful death after Arthur destroyed his Armada. This wasn't really the problem. She would gladly fulfill that wish if she could. The problem was that this was SPAIN. The older brother that had always promised to take her away from that damned hell one day. The one who had taught her how to garden (Especially tomatoes) and complained about the weather jokingly. Not blaming her for the fact it always rained in the British Isles. The ONLY one, fellow country, fae, or human who had understood her desire for the sea.

….Prussia, who Marjorie short of admits she could have developed a SMALL colonial crush on... and still MIGHT have one on, replaced her with Germany. And NO she does NOT hate Germany because of that. THANK YOU VERY MUCH. Well... maybe just a little. ANYWAY!

...Now though she flees in the other direction at the sight of them. (Dignifiedly of course. She did have a reputation to uphold... Or at least Arthur did.)

Romania, the one she had started studying magic with, only noticed when she was bleeding due to his rather large vampiric population and the amount of magic that was contained in said blood. But he never cared enough anymore to actually go and see if she was alright. It was a mutual silent agreement between the two that neither EVER had NOTHING wrong with them it seemed. He who had always been the first to know she was injured and if not help her himself at least find someone who could now couldn't even be bothered to send her a questioning glance at a conference they both had to attend.

Then there was the Italian siblings. She had nothing much to say about them.

She had never really met Northern Italy as he had been left at home to keep him safe from the horrors and dangers of the Roman Provinces. But she had seen him. The night she had killed his grandfather she had seen him. She had given the sleeping child-nation to Prussia to be sent to live with his younger brother the Holy Roman Empire at Austria's house. She had not been able to bring herself to apologize to him for what she had done.

Southern Italy however, was a different story. She had seen her plenty of times. Always just out from under his Guardian Nation's radar they had been friends to some degree. More alike than anyone would care to think. She had gone to the trouble of hiding the italian girl's gender even better than her own. As an apology for everything. No one looking at Lovino's body would believe he was actually Feliciano's older sister by two years.

And her older brothers had yet to change their minds about wanting her dead. How...lovely.

The sound of a bullet firing from Arthur's weapon was what brought Marjorie's make believe world crashing down around her.

The year is 1920.

Marjorie Alyss Kirkland, Personification of England

Representative of what was once the United Kingdom,

Younger sister of

Alistair James Kirkland, Personification of Scotland

Seamus O'Connor, Personification of Ireland

And Cmyru Bryn Kirkland, Personification of Wales

stands in her bathroom with tears running down her once flame colored hair has turned the shade of bright scarlet that now covers everything her dead eyes look at.

The shade of her brother's blood as it left his body from a lethal wound right through his heart.

She hadn't wanted to do it but he had made her. Declaring that he would rather die than live under Arthur's rule any longer than he already had.

At least he had unknowingly given her something, _Someone_, to remember him by. She holds her stomack and for once since Gaul was happy to be female. She knew otherwise this would never have happened. HE would never happen.

The one Spain had said would come for her f she could just hold on and wait long enough.

The one she had almost mistaken America for.

The one born with the sole purpose of never leaving her side.

Patrick O'Connor Kirkland.

The blood of a brother willingly sacrificed was what brought the slow unraveling of the cloth that hid the truth from those who should have already known.

And the voices were louder in her ears than ever before. So what are we waiting for? Let the memories… BEGIN.


	3. The Celtic Brothers

When the Celts dream it is always of pain and death. Fire, war, starvation, bullet… over and over they watch as a girl they can't quite place begs for forgiveness from someone not even there. Excepting death without a fight… almost as if she wishes for it in some of the scenes.

A girl never older then sixteen with normally hip-length hair in various shades of yellow, brown, and red. Her body is scarred and fragile looking yet somehow there is an unearthly quality about her that seems to make her unable to be considered ugly or even standard no matter how many she acquires.

It doesn't start that way though. At first their dreams were separate and relatively tame.

At first Scotland didn't see her in his dreams. He stood in a forest that felt as if it was the forest his siblings and him lived in before the Roman bastard ripped his family apart. But instead of the friendly, life-filled, highland woods it was darker. He found himself running after someone but unable to catch them. Whenever he was about to give up he would catch a glimpse of golden hair, hear the sound of soft laughter, or otherwise see something that would spur hope back into him and keep him going. Towards What or Whom he didn't know…. But he HAD to reach them. There was no other way to end this. He ran after her for about a year, the forest getting progressively colder and less friendly as time went by. Until finally he came to a clearing that looked like the one he had found Albion in long ago except that everything was dead and decaying, a heavy sense of hopeless hanging thick in the air.

She stood in the middle, looking for all the world like a female version of the Albion from back then and when she saw him she smiled.

"ALBA!" The girl exclaims running to him. He looks at the unscarred five-year-old and though it is obvious she knows him, and might have even been waiting for him to get there, he can't place her from anywhere.

"Who are you?" she lets go of him and backs up looking about to cry.

"You still don't remember."

-Hello Line! -

Wales begins his series on a battlefield.

Of course it isn't a battlefield at that moment but he will never be able to look at where he lost to the Roman Empire and see anything but one again.

A four-year-old girl with butchered scarlet hair that looked to have been chopped off at her neck sits there among the trees drawing in the dirt facing away from him. He swears she wasn't there when he first started dreaming of the place months ago but now she is. Almost looking as if she got bored waiting for him. She is wearing normal Roman wear yet something tells him she is anything but one of them. Scars cover her body yet her face seems to have been left untouched and there is an unconscious trembling in her hands often found in torture survivors. When he approaches her however she doesn't give the slightest reaction. As if he were either expected or unnoticed by her.

He watches for about a month as she draws what seems to be a flag in the dirt at their feet. Not recognizing which country it belonged to and unable to find it anywhere else. It had the green, white, orange, sequence Eire was fond of as the base, the large whit X from Alba's went over it, and one of his dragons was positioned regally in the middle of the whole thing a small red cross on it's side. She neither speaks nor looks at him while she works and when she finally does her dull green eyes widen and Wales finds himself tackled to the ground by a sobbing 4-year-old. He looks at her and pets her hair comfortingly as he asks the question that has been burning on the tip of his tongue since he saw her, knowing he has seen her before.

"Who are you?" She lets go of his shirt and backs away wiping the tears from her face. It doesn't get rid of the hurt and betrayal clear on her face.

She never answers his question.

-I'd say it's an appropriate time for a line -

Ireland watches as his world falls apart. It begins as complete darkness with the sound of sobbing coming from all around him. As time goes on though the darkness began to thin.

His first image was of a hospital room not long after his revolution. A young girl with scarlet hair, haunted green eyes, and a scarred yet beautiful face lay on the bed propped up by pillows. In her arms is a baby boy that feels as if he should belong to him yet is a fellow Country like the girl. She holds him protectively to her whispering sweet nothings in his ear as tears stream down her face. A nurse comes in with a birth certificate and the girl reluctantly hands over her precious charge, filling out the document that would never leave my mind entirely.

Patrick O'Conner Kirkland

Mother: Marjorie Alyss Kirkland

Marjorie Alyss Kirkland

Father: Seamus O'Conner

The line for the father's signature was blank but it didn't matter that I wasn't there today to sign for the newborn personification nor did I remember shagging anyone in the four years since the war had started. Patrick was my son…

…Just who was Marjorie Alyss Kirkland?

"Who are you?" I whisper and she looks up at me. Eyes the color of dead grass widening in fear, disappointment clearly battling with it for control.

"You already Know.'

**Hello Everyone!**

**In response to Huh123huh's questions, yes the picture is more or less my base for what Marjorie Alyss looks like, though it seems to change from time period to time period. This story is set up so that it can spawn any relationships between the characters that you readers wish it to contain. Not just sibling acceptance or friendship but romantic relationships as well. If you have a request for any type of relationship you know how to get ahold of me through PMing or the lovely review box below. If it can't go in this story I'll put it in a different story for you or make an alternative chapter. I am also taking requests for who the next round of dreams to be posted should belong to. Thank you for waiting as I weeded my way through the first three dreams and ended up writing a chapter I won't post until much later in this series. (I blame my brain, still not quite sure how it comes up with everything.) **

**Until next time! Bye!**


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